Visions 7
by JediMagnet09
Summary: part of the Visions series- A new enemy has arisen and is determined to tear the boys apart.  It wants Dean out of the way so Sam will be vulnerable.  What are its plans for Sam and, more importantly, who will be in the line of fire?
1. ProloguePreview

Here's a little preview/prologue for visions 7... Interested? I think I have a fairly decent idea going on... :) By the way, a sequel to Secrets is in the planning stages. I'm still trying to figure out what exactly I want to do. If there is a scene someone wants to see or any story ideas someone wants written, I will always hear them gladly and they will definitely be considered and (probably) used. Thanks so much for reading and I hope this gets people interested in reading Visions 7! :)

* * *

Sam wasn't sure how it had come to this.

After all they had been through...

All he had lived through...

This was how he was going to die?

It didn't seem fair.

It didn't seem right.

Yet...

He couldn't stop it.

He could barely find it in him to care.

Without Dean?

There was no point in fighting anyway.


	2. Chapter 1

Hey all! Here's chapter one of Visions 7! I was torn between working on this one or working on Secrets 2 next, but I finally decided on this one because I have a firmer plan for this one than for Secrets 2. I have a few ideas for that sequel that I'm still working on...

Anyway, I hope you like this! Please review and thanks for reading! :)

* * *

"Hey dad."

Sam swallowed. He wasn't sure he liked this, not at all.

Dean refused to look at him, his shoulders stiff with anger that Sam knew wasn't directed at him. At least not all of it.

They hadn't exactly agreed on whether or not calling their dad in was a good idea considering how their conversation a few months before had gone.

But Sam was tired.

He was tired of the fighting. He was tired of the distance between him and his father. Something nagged at him, some deep part of him was beginning to recognize that _none_ of them would live forever. Heck, Sam was fairly sure he wasn't going to live to the age of 40 or maybe even 30. What would he do if he _wasn't_ the one to die first, like he kinda thought he would? What if it was their dad? Or...or heaven forbid...Dean? Sam knew it was time to extend the olive branch.

He had simply told Dean he wanted dad's help.

"Sam." If John was surprised to hear his youngest son's voice, he didn't show it.

"I, uh...We're working on a case and I was wondering if you would come up and give us a hand. This thing that's killing people off..." Sam sighed. "We don't know what it is. It doesn't fit any of the regular patterns of...well, anything. We'd appreciate your opinion."

_Please dad. We're stronger together. As a family. We always have been._

John hesitated and Sam felt his heart drop.

That's when John spoke, his voice firm and unquestioning.

"Alright. I'm coming. Just tell me where you are."

...

Sam fidgeted again where he was sitting at the table, pretending to do research on the laptop, though Dean knew the kid was just trying to find something to distract himself with.

Dean sighed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

He couldn't decide whether or not he was happy their dad was coming. He had agreed: that was a good sign. Or at least it could be. It would depend on his motivation for coming. Helping his useless sons? Not good. Going to support his children because they were his? Good.

Dean loved his father. He did. But Sam always came first and Dean wasn't sure their father was ready to get over the mind-reading incident of several months before.

Then Sam fidgeted again, restlessly, and Dean couldn't just sit there anymore.

"Sam. It'll be okay, kiddo. Relax."

Sam glanced over at him, surprised. "I thought I was the mind-reader."

"You're rubbing off on me."

Sam snorted. "Heaven help us."

Dean flashed him a fake-hurt look. "Ouch. That's not very nice. I would _never_ abuse the power of mind reading."

"Yeah whatever."

Dean hid his grin. "I find your lack of faith disturbing."

"Oh. Oh no. There is no way you're starting that again." But Sam sounded amused.

"Dream squasher."

"_What?"_

"Bubble burster."

"Ugh."

"Dorkwad."

"You're so sad."

"Dopehead."

"Seriously?"

"#$%^."

"Jerk."

...

_This is awkward_.

Sam sighed.

John clearly didn't know how to interact with Sam, what was too much, what to say.

_Crap, dad, it's mind reading, I didn't grow horns and a tail! _

But what really surprised Sam?

His dad was _trying_.

He had looked Sam in the eyes when he walked up, greeted him just as he'd greeted Dean.

He sat reading over all the research Sam had done, then thought for a while, flipping through several pages of his journal.

"I kind of thought it was related to the Wendigo." Sam said softly.

John glanced at him, looking impressed, much to Sam's additional surprise. "You're right, actually. It's a relative of the Wendigo. You kill it in a similiar manner, except it's susceptible to bullets as well as fire. It's a little slower than the Wendigo, but ten times stronger and has massive claws. Nothing to mess around with."

Sam nodded, glancing at Dean, who looked thoughtful, probably already contemplating what he was going to do to the creature and how best to go about the fight.

"This is good work, Sam. Thorough research."

Sam stared at John in shock, but his dad didn't look at him, standing and walking towards the door. "I'm gonna make sure I have what I need in the truck. When you guys are ready we can head out."

Sam and Dean watched their father go, then stared at each other.

"Should I get the holy water?" Sam finally asked.

Dean snorted, trying to contain a burst of laughter. _I knew you'd come around! Oh, crap, dad. Thank you. _

...

The three Winchesters were prepared for this fight. Each had their handguns securely tucked in their belts, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice. Sam had a pack holding three make-shift flame throwers that they would probably pull out once they got closer to their destination. They had figured out a basic area to search, where they thought it's hunting grounds were and were heading that way now.

Sam was nervous.

He wasn't sure why exactly.

He would _swear_ someone was watching, but none of his senses, human or otherwise, warned him of anyone that wasn't supposed to be there.

Dean had glanced around several times, looking carefully at their surroundings, but he apparently hadn't seen anything either.

John was stiff, prepared, alert.

This hunt shouldn't be hard, Sam knew. They were more than prepared. Sam knew that too.

_Then why am I so afraid?_

_..._

A wicked smile spread across the face of the man standing in the shadows.

_Let the games begin._


	3. Chapter 2

Hey all! Here's the next chapter! Thanks for the reviews and thank you so much for reading! Please review! :)

Um...let's see. I have a warning...if you don't want to read it, then don't read the next line and just skip down... :)

WARNING: character death

Okay! Here's the story!

* * *

Sam froze.

A chill went down his spine, a cold soaking into his limbs.

The creature was close.

Dean and his father must have felt it too, because they stopped, each drawing their gun.

That's when a huge clawed creature leapt from the trees. It wasn't as fast as a Wendigo, thank goodness, but it _was_ fast and it was halfway across the clearing, heading straight for Dean, before any of the hunters had their guns raised.

Sam's reflexes kicked in, his gun up and he was firing before his brain had even gotten over the fact that _it was headed straight for his big brother. _

His shots were well-aimed and the creature skidded to a halt, turning to face Sam, burning fury in its gaze. It was moving for him a second later.

Sam cocked his gun once more, pulling the trigger.

Nothing happened.

_Crap!_

He tried again, nothing.

Taking several rapid steps back, he started to try to fix the problem, unsure of exactly how to do that.

The creature was still approaching, even faster than before, ignoring the sound of the two hunters firing, managing to put a tree between him and Dean.

"SAM!"

Dean's cry was, to Sam's slight surprise, echoed by their father.

Giving up on the gun, Sam concentrated, reaching out to _push_ the creature away, hopefully far enough that he could have a second to pull out the flamethrower in place of his useless gun.

Nothing.

_What the-_

Sam froze, panic finally building in his mind.

_This is it._

Realization.

_I'm gonna die._

Fear.

_It's over._

Regret.

_I'm so sorry, Dean. Dad._

Guilt for his final thought.

_Please let it be quick. _

...

"Sam!"

And John was suddenly there, standing between his youngest child and the creature, a tall strong protective wall. Fearless and determined.

"Dad!"

The creature lashed out.

Dean fired.

A screech and the creature fell.

So did John.

"Dad!" Sam caught him, lowering him to the ground, trying rapidly to inspect the damage.

It only took him a second to realize it was fatal.

Blood already stained his dad's clothing, gushing from several horribly deep wounds. Any deeper and they would have cut him in half.

Dean was there, dropping to his knees.

"I'm sorry. Oh, dad, I'm _sorry_. I'm _so sorry._" Sam was frantically repeating, his panic not banished, just changing directions.

John shushed him. "Sammy. Sam. It's okay. It was gonna happen, Sam. It's okay." he gasped.

Dean was stiff on the other side of the father, shock and fear and horror all warring on his face.

John looked over at his oldest, managing to grab his arm forcefully for someone so severely wounded. "I'm proud of you, son."

Dean began shaking his head frantically. John squeezed his arm.

"Dean. You raised your brother right. You did a good job. You're a darn good hunter and a good man. I'm _proud_ of you."

Dean began to cry. "Dad. Dad, no...don't-"

John's breathing was getting harsher and he was clearly struggling.

"I-I'm sorry, Sam. I made mistakes with you. I-I know I did. I'm th-thankful you h-had your brother, b-but I'm a-also sorry it w-wasn't m-me you c-could turn to. I-I hope you know..." He trailed off.

There were some things that their father could never say, even when death was upon him.

Sam smiled through his tears and nodded firmly. "Yeah. Yeah, dad. I know. Me too."

John managed a small smile and a nod, then relaxed back against the leaves beneath him, struggling for air.

He gasped once.

Twice.

His eyes slid shut.

Silence.

He was gone.

...

The two remaining Winchesters remained at their father's side for what felt like an eternity.

The silence was only broken by the nearly silent sobs from Sam.


	4. Chapter 3

Hey all! Here's the next chapter! Thanks for all the wonderful reviews!

Everything's going to get much, much, much, much worse before it gets better, but...well, that's what we're all here for right? :)

I had this ready to post Monday night, but of course the sight freaked and has been freaking. Finally someone messaged me a way to fix it and I now owe that person _forever_! :)

I hope you enjoy!

* * *

A week of tense silence followed that fateful night.

Sam had never felt so disconnected from his brother. Even when they were fighting they had been brothers, there had still been something between them. He could always trust his brother to be there when he really needed him.

Now?

He wasn't so sure.

If he was honest with himself...he had never felt so alone.

...

Dean had spent a good portion of the week drinking.

Day after day, Sam watched his brother go to the local bar and get as drunk as he could possibly manage. He left often, but never told Sam where he was going.

Sam was a little surprised by how much it hurt every time Dean walked right passed him in their motel room and didn't say a word, didn't even look at him.

Sam had been left to fend for himself.

Dean woke up before Sam several times, but never got his brother breakfast as he normally would. He got breakfast...just none for Sam.

Frankly, Sam was almost glad to be able to leave the intense tension behind for a few minutes to get his own breakfast. He was so sick of the motel room. They hadn't left the town, they hadn't even left the motel room.

Dean hadn't even _talked_ to him.

Sam had never seen his brother in such a state of strong and horrible grief. He had never been so shunned by his sibling, even at their worst times.

Sam wasn't sure how to balance reaching out to Dean and dealing with his own horrid grief and guilt. Normally, Dean would reach out to him. Sam had always thought that they would suffer through _every_ trial together, that no matter what happened they would get through it because they were _together_.

Being proven wrong sucked.

Especially when you learned the hard way.

Dean's glare, so full of intense anger and almost hatred, had quickly detered Sam from trying more than once to reach out to his brother.

He had had nightmares about receiving that look from Dean. It was the look that Dean usually received for people who were _threatening_ Sam, not for Sam himself.

Sam found it surprisingly terrifying.

The nightmares of being hunted returned, despite the fact that they had always been about...about their dad before.

Now?

They were about Dean.

Sam woke up screaming every night.

Dean never stirred.

...

Sam could clearly remember his breaking point.

He had tried so hard to give Dean space, hoped that Dean would come around and help him bear the burden that he thought was going to kill him.

_Dad. Dad, I'm sorry. _

Dad hadn't blamed him but did Dean?

It was with this in mind that Sam watched Dean come back from another night of drinking, walking right passed him without looking.

That's when Sam broke.

He needed to see his brother's loving gaze, his teasing smile.

He wanted the pain to go away. He didn't know how to deal with it alone. He had never had to before. How could he start now?

"Dean."

Dean froze.

It was the first words that had been spoken for a week between the two of them and Sam felt it like a physical pain.

"Dean, please. Please talk to me. Let me _help _you. We-we don't...don't have to do this alone."

Dean exloded. "It's not your _job_ to fix me Sam."

That hurt.

"I'm your brother, Dean. Not only do I have a responsibility to help, but I _want_ to help."

Dean spun around to face him. "Yeah, well, I'm not sure I want you to be that for me! You certainly weren't there for dad!"

Sam froze. "_What?_" his tone was soft, broken.

Dean stared at him, fury in his eyes, evident in the fists clenched at his side, shaking like he was trying to keep himself from hitting his younger brother. "It's _your fault_, Sam! If you had just taken the time to clean your gun, if you hadn't _froze_, if you had just _used_ your stupid powers, you could have _done something_! You could have saved him, but you did nothing! It's _your fault_, because you _freaking froze!_"

Silence.

_Oh... _

Sam had never heard such hurtful words spoken from his brother's mouth, nor had he known such pain was possible. He had suffered a lot in his short life time, but nothing compared to the pain of knowing that his brother blamed him. Truly blamed him and _hated him_ for it.

He sat down hard on the bed, staring blankly at the floor. Some distant part of him recognized that he could very well be going into shock.

Dean stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

He was probably going back to the bar, if it was even open.

Sam lost track of time after that.

Minutes passed into hours, but it all felt like eternities to the youngest Winchester.

Dean's words spun around and around in Sam's head, the last week of silent suffering on both their parts.

_It's your fault._

_It's your fault._

_It's your fault._

_Dad is dead, because of you._

_Dean hates you._

Sam froze on that one.

_Dean hates you._

That's when Sam knew what he had to do.

...

It only took minutes for Sam to pack. Long years of practice kept him neat and orderly, keeping it easy to rush out the door if necessary.

His bag rested by the door, then he went out to the car, which still sat there, having been unmoved for a week now.

Dean always walked to the bar.

Sam opened the trunk, staring one last time at the array of weapons they owned, each telling him many stories of past hunts.

The rifle he had learned to shoot first, Dean's steady and gentle hands guiding him as he held it and aimed.

The machete he had learned to handle with practiced ease, Dean giving encouragement from the sidelines.

The journal that together he and Dean had filled with everything they knew about this life, about the creatures they had lived, and even _died,_ fighting side by side.

Last of all, he laid eyes on _his _gun.

It was the handgun that Dean had given him for his 16th birthday, one that was his to use. He cleaned it, he cared for it, he used it.

His dad had died because of it.

Somehow Sam knew that if he left it behind Dean would just throw it away.

_I need a weapon anyway..._

Sam tucked it into the back of his pants, then shut the trunk.

For some reason, it felt like he was shutting a lot more than that.

...

Sam took one last look around the motel room.

Everything that belonged to him was gone, packed and waiting by the door for him.

It amazed some distant part of him that wasn't completely numb that over twenty years of living, laughing, loving, fighting, and suffering could come down to a single duffle bag.

There was just one last thing to do.

Sam took the letter from his pocket and laid it on Dean's pillow, where he knew his older brother would see it.

He owed Dean an explanation of some kind.

If Dean cared enough to read it.

Maybe Dean was just _that_ done with him, done with him enough to simply throw away the letter without reading it, with nothing more than a 'good riddance'.

Sam turned his back on the room, grabbed his duffle and walked out the door, shutting it softly behind him.

It was his first time on his own.

...

"Hey Bobby."

Sam had spent a restless night sleeping in a rental car that he had stolen, sleeping very little.

He couldn't stop thinking. Dean's words were always there, like a steady stream in the back of his mind: a constant reminder of his utter failure. In the front of his mind were more practical thoughts like, "what do I do now?"

He had never been on his own before. He had always hunted with Dean by his side. He wasn't used to living on his own and he was barely sure where to even start.

It had finally occurred to him that calling Bobby and running a few things by him might be a good start.

"Sam. How you holdin' up, kiddo?"

Bobby sounded concerned and it tore at Sam's heart.

"I've been better." was all he could manage.

Bobby sighed. "How's Dean?"

"Well...um..." Sam finally took a deep breath and just plunged in. "We separated."

Stunned silence.

"_What?_"

Sam grimaced at Bobby's tone. "Dean...I...we both feel it would be for the best. It's, uh, it's been a really rough week, Bobby."

"Sam-"

Sam couldn't listen to lecture about staying by Dean's side. He couldn't.

"Bobby, I just...I just thought you should know that...that we separated...just in case...you know, just in case something goes wrong. Dean...Dean deserves to know if something...something happened to me. If...if he cares, then maybe you could pass the message along if you don't hear from me."

"_Sam-"_

"I gotta go, Bobby."

Sam ended the call, threw the phone into the empty passenger seat.

He pulled the car over to the side of the road, sat staring at the bleak landscape around him.

Finally, he bowed his head over the wheel of the car and began to cry.


	5. Chapter 4

Hey everyone! Here's the next chapter! I hope you enjoy it (as much as you can when we left poor Sam crying in the car)! Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! :)

* * *

Sam was tired.

The last few weeks had been stressful and painful.

He hated hunting on his own.

It was exhausting and, frankly, frightening. The level of paranoia that built up, the fear that seemed to be your constant companion, when you _knew_ there was no one nearby who understood the danger, no one who could rescue you if something went wrong.

No one had his back and it terrified him.

He hadn't heard from Dean, but Bobby said he was alive. It was all Bobby would say.

_"Call him, idjit!"_

But Sam had refused.

Dean didn't _want_ to hear from him. Dean _hated_ him.

But Dean could never hate him as much as he hated himself.

_Everything. Years of pain and suffering. So many have __**died**__, all because of __**me**__. _

Sam shook off the thoughts and focused on the road ahead of him.

Focus was the only thing keeping him alive. Ironically enough, focus _was_ his distraction. It was better than drinking himself into oblivion when he was so vulnerable, which was what his older brother seemed to enjoy doing.

Hunting was hard on his own, but not impossible.

He had learned a lot hunting on his own, though nothing he had ever wanted to learn.

He could stitch himself up now, treat his own wounds. He knew how to increase his own pain just enough to keep him alert but not strong enough to make him pass out.

He was learning how to hide more weapons on his person, since he didn't have a partner to share the load anymore.

One thing he didn't know how to learn and didn't think he ever would was how to _live_ alone.

To eat, to sleep, to drive, to research, to "celebrate" a job well done. None of it meant anything if you were alone.

Sam ate enough to survive. He slept until he woke screaming from nightmares. Usually it gave him an hour, maybe two or three if he was lucky.

He still hated driving alone, but that didn't mean he was a bad driver.

Sam sighed, heavily, flipping the radio back on now that he was approaching another town, hoping he would get something good.

He almost had a heart attack when Metallica blasted through the radio, singing a song that Sam had known every word to since he was 6.

He turned the radio back off.

...

The blast of pain was sudden and unexpected.

Sam knew immediately what it meant, terror striking him hard.

_No. No, please, no. Not now! Not while I'm alone._

Vision.

Sam yanked the car over to the side of the road, managing to turn it off before another, stronger blast of pain had him jerking in his seat, yanking hard against the seatbelt painfully.

He gasped for air, whimpering with pain as another blast of pain had him jerking again and again, hands reaching blindly through his tears to unhook the seat belt.

The second he succeeded he knew it was a bad idea.

He jerked again, nothing to stop him from hitting the steering wheel hard.

He saw stars, the pain nothing compared to what was in his head, but the blackness encroaching on his vision told him he had very nearly knocked himself out.

He fell to the side, lying on the seat, mouth hanging open as he gasped for air.

Finally, the vision hit and he stiffened.

...

Cars passed by the still, seemingly empty car, heedless of the suffering of the young man inside.

One man stood across the way, watching the still car, unseen by any of the passing cars.

He observed his target, face blank, except for a small upturn at the corner of his mouth.

_Perfect._

...

Sam started awake.

He groaned in pain as his head throbbed, his muscles protesting movement, having been lying in one position for too long.

Sam glanced outside the window.

Long enough to get dark, apparently.

The road was nearly deserted now and Sam whimpered in pain (_after all, there's no one to hear me_) as he sat up.

Starting the car, he headed towards his new hunt.

_I hate this._

...

"Hey Bobby."

"Sam." Bobby had to say he was surprised to hear from the youngest Winchester. The kid wasn't calling him very often and it worried the older man.

_Darn you Dean. _He tamped his anger down.

"I, uh, I had a vision and I need your help figuring out what town it's in. I'm on the road and I don't want to try to find an internet connection myself."

Bobby winced.

He had witnessed Sam having a vision and he hated the idea of the kid suffering through one alone.

They were hard enough when his older brother was there.

"Okay, Sam, what can you tell me?"

"I know there's a lake close by, with a busy road about a mile away."

"Sam, that doesn't narrow it down much."

"Most of the license plates were from Oklahoma."

"Anything else?"

"I saw a sign in the distance, but all I could make out was an 'S'. I'm pretty sure it was a sign for the lake."

Bobby had the information in less than a minute. "Lake Saratoga. There's a town, Saratoga, within a mile or two of the lake."

"Okay, thanks, Bobby."

"Anytimes, Sam. Hey, you need backup?"

Sam paused and Bobby felt his heart drop.

"No, I'm good, thanks Bobby."

Bobby knew that meant Sam needed backup but wasn't going to ask. He'd heard it a few times in the last few weeks and it was something he was growing to hate a great deal.

Bobby hung up the phone the second Sam did, sighing.

_I better find out what that idjit's getting himself into. _

...

Sam knew he was being reckless.

The spirit he had seen in his vision was aggressive, _incredibly _aggressive, and thus _very _dangerous. It wasn't a hunt he should do alone.

Somehow he couldn't bring himself to care.

He told himself it was because he couldn't wait for Bobby to drive up or find a suitable partner when people were literally being dragged from their cars on the closest road to be drowned in a small lake. The closest road was still nearly a mile away, which was a lot of territory for a spirit to cover.

In truth?

Sam just felt he had no reason _not_ to be reckless. Why the heck _should_ he care?

Dean was done with him, his father was dead, he _had_ no one else.

As much as he loved Bobby and Pastor Jim, they were friends and he couldn't be a burden to them.

Without Dean?

Sam had a hard time finding a reason to be careful.

...

Sam drove along _the_ road, watching for any signs of cars getting yanked to the side of the road, any sign of the spirit.

So far, he had found nothing.

He was close to the spot where the last victim was found when it happened.

A car swerved violently to the side of the road, the woman who had been driving it getting pulled from the suddenly open door by invisible hands.

It was fast, already pulling the woman into the trees.

Sam pulled up behind her car, grabbing the rifle he had filled with rock salt on his rush to reach her before they reached the lake.

The next mile consisted of a chase that Sam was desperate not to lose. He was close, always close, but never close enough. The trees kept him from having a good shot and he knew he would have only a very brief time to get his shot before the spirit and the woman were in the lake.

Sam skidded to a halt at the edge of the trees, waited till he could see the flickering of the ghost as they edged down the pier, the woman kicking and screaming and crying, then fired.

The spirit screeched and dropped the sobbing woman onto the pier.

Sam was by her side a second later.

"You're okay. Hey, hey, you're okay. Come on, let's get you back to you car, ma'am."

...

Sam followed the young woman back into town, brushing off her profuse thanks politely, only asking that she direct him to the cheapest motel in the area.

It had wireless and he got his laptop set up immediately, thankful that the town's newspapers had records online, as was growing more and more popular recently.

He scanned the obituaries, looking for anyone that could fit the MO of this ghost, looking for the first drowning.

It wasn't hard, much to his surprise.

A young man had died six years before, drowned in the lake by a serial killer who was caught immediately afterwards. The killer got off on a technicality two years later and the ghost had started killing. It started off as one every three months, escalating until there was at least one person a day being killed if not more. It was a busy road and most people weren't willing to find a different route, no matter how many people died there.

Sam grinned a little to himself. _I can do this. This isn't so bad._

...

Sam headed to the cemetery about a half hour before dark. He wanted to get a good look around and make sure he knew where the exact grave was so he could do a little planning.

He was about halfway to the cemetery when his car _jerked_ to the side of the road, the passenger side door flung open, and a grip of steel dug into his shirt and _dragged_ him out of the car and towards the trees.

Sam was unable to muffle his cry of surprise, desperately trying to grab _something_, _anything_ to help him, but all of his stuff was in the trunk.

That thought had no sooner hit Sam, than he was reaching out with his mind to the trunk, trying to force it open and pull some sort of weapon to him.

Nothing happened.

_Oh crap._

Even underneath the sudden burst of panic, Sam was puzzled, some part of his mind registering that that was the _second_ time his powers hadn't responded to him when he was in trouble.

Too bad he wasn't going to live to figure out what the heck was going on.

Sam's mind was overcome by panic at that point, struggling, fighting to get free, but to no avail.

The ghost was powerful and ignored his strugglings like he was a small child whose strength was of no consequence.

Sam wasn't sure he liked that comparison.

He felt the ground suddenly start to get moist beneath him and he fought harder, knowing what was going to happen, knowing where he was.

Then he was in the water.

He tried to keep his face above the water, but the spirit's hands were on his shoulders, pushing him down.

As strong as he was, he was no match.

The second he realized he was going to die was the same second that he realized that he didn't, _couldn't_, care.

The spirit pushed him underneath the water and it filled his mouth, his nose, his lungs. He jerked and choked as his body panicked from the lack of air.

Sam wasn't sure how it had come to this.

After all they had been through...

All he had lived through...

This was how he was going to die?

It didn't seem fair.

It didn't seem right.

Yet...

He couldn't stop it.

He could barely find it in him to care.

Without Dean?

There was no point in fighting anyway.


	6. Chapter 5

Here's the next chapter! A few more to go, I hope you enjoy! Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! :)

* * *

A FEW HOURS PREVIOUSLY:

Dean sighed deeply, forcibly keeping himself from looking in the passenger seat. The _empty_ passenger seat.

He had found himself doing that a lot in the last few weeks.

It was strange to be anywhere without his other half: his little brother. To hear his baby brother breathing softly as he slept, turning as he suffered from nightmares that Dean would always wake him from, complain of the music being too loud or Dean being obnoxious or eating only junk food crap. To see his baby brother smile, laugh at one of his jokes, tease him mercilessly, _almost_ dishing it out as good as he got it. Fighting by his older brother's side, watching his older brother's back. Being partners.

He found himself missing that a great deal.

The guilt, an all too familiar wrestling partner of the last few weeks, welled up again, threatening to choke him.

He had let his baby brother leave, yelled at him, was cruel and unkind and poked (_stabbed_) at spots that he _knew_ were sensitive.

Worry was the other emotion he had been wrestling with and this one he was letting win.

Sam was hunting alone.

His _baby brother_ was hunting alone, fighting alone.

Dean sighed again, resisting the urge to call Bobby (_again_) and ask about Sam.

Bobby only ever told him that Sam was alive and _always_ added an insistent _call him idjit_.

Dean couldn't bring himself to do it yet.

The guilt was strong, the anger still there, though not nearly as strong as it had been.

Worry was still winning out and, thus, Dean found himself following Sam's trail, almost unconsciously, never too far away.

Dean sighed again.

_Crap. Never...never should have said that to him. _

...

Dean jumped a little as his phone rang.

He hadn't received a call in forever, since Bobby never called him and of course Sam didn't...

Dean flipped the phone open when he saw it was Bobby.

"Bobby." His tone was more urgent than he had wanted, his sudden fear clearer than he had hoped.

Bobby paused, then sighed audibly. "Dean, I have news."

Dean's heart stopped. _No. Oh, please no. _

"I think Sam's in over his head on this new hunt he's taken. He had a vision-"

"He _what?" _

Bobby continued as if he hadn't spoken. "-and there's an extremely aggressive spirit that's killed a ton of people and it's moved up to several people a day now. It's dragging them from over a mile away to its lake and drowning them. I think Sam needs backup, but he won't ask for it."

Bobby's tone was pointed and Dean winced.

_Point taken._

"Alright. Where exactly is he? I'm on my way."

...

Dean was worried.

He was closer to Sam than he'd thought, thank goodness, but he was still a ways away and he was_ worried_. Bobby had told him everything he had found out about this spirit, how many deaths exactly it had been responsible for and even shared a bit of his insight from Sam's tone during their conversation and it all led to one thing:

Big Brother Panic Mode.

Sam _was_ in over his head and his baby brother was typically good at knowing that kind of thing. Which meant two things, neither of which appealed to the older brother.

One, Sam was too distracted to notice. Two, Sam...didn't care.

Dean wasn't sure which he hated more.

_I can't believe he had a vision alone._

A nasty voice in the back of Dean's head spoke up then. _What did you __**think**__ would happen, stupid? Eventually, he would have had a vision._

_I didn't know he would leave._

_You could have stopped him._

_I was angry._

_Your baby brother is in trouble, he could be __**dying**__ and that's your only excuse? You were __**angry**__?_

_I know._

_John was Sam's father too._

Dean paused at that.

_Yeah. Yeah he was._

_Oh Sammy. I can't lose you too. Please. Not after losing dad. Don't do this to me. Be okay. Be sitting in your dusty old library still doing research or something. Please geekboy. Please be safe._

Dean pressed down harder on the gas pedal.

...

CURRENT TIME:

Sam couldn't fight anymore.

The life was draining out of him. It was a sensation he never got used to, no matter _how_ many times he had nearly died or actually died.

There was nothing left in him to fight with.

No reason to fight.

No air.

Nothing.

Black started to edge around his vision and Sam welcomed it. _So close. So close._

His last thought was wondering if that strong arm around his chest was his imagination.

Because he would have sworn it felt familiar.

Sam remember no more.

...

_No. No, no, no, no,nonononononononono NO! _

He pulled his soaking little brother out of the water.

Sam: too limp. Frighteningly still.

Not breathing.

Dean began rescue breathing, panic filling his senses till he could barely _think_, much less act.

Thank heavens their dad had trained them so hard for so long.

"Please."

_Breath._

"Sam, please."

_Breath._

"Don't leave me."

_Breath._

"Please."

_Breath._

"Don't give up."

Sam suddenly gasped, choked, and Dean quickly turned him onto his side as he began to cough up water.

When Sam finally stilled, Dean turned him back onto his back.

Sam's eyes were open, but he looked groggy, confused. Shock lit his eyes up a moment later, as they rested on his older brother.

Dean hugged Sam tightly to him, overwhelmed with relief.

"Sammy. Crap, Sammy."

Sam breathed the scent of his big brother in from where he was pressed against Dean's body, overwhelmed himself with the sudden feeling of _comfort _and _home_ that filled him.

He hadn't been sure he would ever see his brother again.

_Speaking of which..._

"Dean. Wh-what are you doing here?"

Dean pulled back a little, flushing guiltily.

"Bobby warned me and...well, I wasn't too far behind you. I haven't been too far since..." Dean trailed off.

Sam gazed at him, confused.

Dean rubbed a hand over his face. "Look, Sam-"

An irritated voice interrupted him.

"You two just _have_ to make things difficult, don't you?"


	7. Chapter 6

Hi! So this site has been a pain in the butt and it's giving me a hard time. I'm getting reviews for chapter four, but haven't even gotten an email for chapter five and here I am posting chapter six, which I probably will _never_ get an email about which means (I think) that no one else is getting an email about either. **Sigh **I hope they fix this site soon. Anyway, here's the next chapter. Enjoy!

I know this one is short, but it's a necessary chapter of explanation and revelation and I plan on writing and posting the next chapter today or tomorrow. So, not too long a wait, I hope. :)

* * *

Dean and Sam both turned at the new voice, though Sam kept the moving to a minimum since he _had_ just come back from the dead. Again. And he was feeling it too. His head pounded, while he struggled to focus on the newcomer.

Short. That was the first thing Sam noticed. Blonde, hair a little long (even by Sam's floppy-haired standards), wearing a purple suit of all things.

"Who are you?" Dean snarled, sliding protectively in front of Sam, though Sam clung to him in an attempt to stay upright.

The man grinned nastily and instantly Sam knew that despite appearances, this guy meant trouble.

Apparently, Dean got the vibe too, because he started reaching for the knife he always kept in his boot.

"Just someone lookin' for a little bit of fun."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "None to be found here." A smirk pulled at Dean's lips and he just couldn't help himself. "The doofus convention is 50 miles _that_ way."

Sam pushed him slightly. _Dean_, _don't antagonize the strange man. And that was a really lame joke._

"Oh, I disagree, Dean Winchester. You and Sam are _so _much fun."

Dean tensed at the use of their names.

"You see, your brother has some interesting abilities that I decided to come and take a look at _personally_. And, unfortunately for you, Sammy, I'm afraid you've been deemed a danger to my fine self and thus, must be...hmm...how to say it..._terminated_."

Sam stared at him, even as Dean growled angrily.

_Is this guy for real? _He wondered incredulously. _This is retarded. At least the Yellow-eyed Demon could be frightening. This guy's just ridiculous._

"Though...I suppose it was unfortunate for your dear ol' dad too, wasn't it, Sam?"

That caused both Winchesters to freeze.

_"What?"_ Sam's voice was shaky and weak, but fury and horror were still clear and firm.

"Well, I _meant_ for that creature to go after you. I managed to interrupt your wonderful little power boost so the creature could just jump at you and claw you to pieces, but then your dad just _had_ to get in the way." He heaved a fake sigh. "You Winchesters. Always insist on sacrificing yourselves for each other. It's rather sickening, actually."

Dean threw Sam a guilty looking glance over his shoulder.

Sam offered him a very sad, weak smile, silently offering his forgiveness.

His older brother gripped his shoulder hard, then turned to face the man again.

"But never let it be said that I can't go with the flow, roll with the punches! I decided that this was even _better_ to work with. Considering how strongly you two feel about your father and some of the controversy the old man managed to stir up, it was the _perfect_ opportunity. All I had to do was sit back and watch as you two tore yourselves apart. When you caused that big fight, Dean, I knew I had read you two right and I knew that everything was going according to plan: Sam was vulnerable."

...

Fury built in Dean's chest.

He couldn't even decide who he was ultimately angry at.

The...whatever he was who had tricked them into all of this mess or himself for playing right into his (its?) hands.

_I'm so sorry, Sammy._

...

Sam wasn't sure he had ever felt so _tired_.

Everything was about him.

Everything seemed to be about his powers, his ability, his future, the _threat_ he supposedly posed to any and all evil.

_I just...I just want everyone I love to be __**safe**__. _

"But of course, you two _have_ to make me work at this. Dean just _had _to feel guilty and _had _to follow his brother and of _course_ came to his rescue."

Finally, Sam ground out, "Who _are you?"_

The man laughed. "You don't _know?_ I'm kinda insulted Sam. I thought you knew _everything_. I'm a _trickster_, of course."

Dean traded a look with Sam, the same thought going through both of their heads. _Oh crap._

The trickster sighed again, then shrugged. "No matter. This could potentially be even more fun. Third time's the charm is it not?"

The trickster grinned widely. "Let's play a _new _game, shall we?" and snapped his fingers.


	8. Chapter 7

HA! Record timing! :) Here's the next chapter!

Prepare for things to get even worse! Mua ha ha ha! :)

Um...yeah...here's warnings and story! Enjoy! Please review!

WARNING: SPOILERS UNDERNEATH THE SECOND WARNING! :)

WARNING (2):

character death...sorta...

...

At the trickster's snap, Dean suddenly felt himself being pulled away from Sam, held by two strong hands.

Sam was surrounded by four large men, on his feet but wavering and struggling.

The kid looked exhausted. As much as Dean wished it wasn't so, he knew this fight would be short.

Sam lashed out at one of his attackers with his fist, pushing another back with a flare of his previously absent powers.

He couldn't fight all of them though and he found several pairs of hands grabbing him and restraining him.

A tall pole appeared behind Sam and Dean's brows furrowed. _What the heck?_

His baby brother was tied to the pole, easily despite his struggles, and that's when a horrible suspicion crossed Dean's mind.

"NO! LET HIM GO YOU #$%%! NO! SAMMY!"

Dean wasn't normally one to complete lose it and panic, but this was Sam and if he was right...it wouldn't matter if he destroyed his dignity, because everything he truly cared about would be gone.

Sam was still struggling against his tight bindings, but he stared at Dean as he did so, panic of his own beginning to build within him at Dean's reaction.

The men began to pile hay at Sam's feet and around his legs.

Dean didn't know and didn't care where it came from, as he finally met Sam's gaze and saw that his baby brother had just came to the same realization he had. The terror and horror in his wide eyes would be just one more addition to Dean's already terrible nightmares.

"You're a powerful being, Sam, someone the puritans would have called a witch. I was always interested in the puritans. They were so much fun. I didn't have to cause many extra problems in that time. Ha, they were entertaining and troublesome enough on their own! Let's have a little history lesson shall we? And I've always been a hands-on kinda guy, so we'll make it an object lesson."

The trickster grinned and the men were suddenly holding torches.

"NO! NO! SAM! SAMMY!" Dean's screams pierced the evening air, as Sam struggled for his own composure, fighting violently against his bonds, but in vain.

The four men set fire to the hay.

"DEAN!" Sam's terrified and desperate scream set a fire of grief and agony in Dean's own soul.

_Not again. Not again! Not again, please. __**PLEASE! PLEASE NO! NO! SAMMY!**_

Sweat glistened on Sam's burning skin, his clothes alight, his mouth open in a scream, _screech_, of indescribable anguish.

Finally, Sam went limp and Dean knew.

Sam was dead.

Misery and overwhelming desolation hit the older brother hard.

_Sammy. Oh, Sammy. I'm so sorry._

_I can't...Sammy, please. I-_

A sob tore from Dean's throat, the power of his own torment sending him to his knees.

...

After an eternity passed, everything disappeared.

The trickster and his men were gone, Sam was lying limp on the ground, healed except for a few minor bruises and burns.

It was the moving of his baby brother's chest that got him moving.

Dean, ignoring his tear-streaked cheeks, crawled rapidly over to his suddenly breathing baby brother.

He ran his hands lightly over him, trying to be sure there were no life-threatening wounds, trying to make himself believe that Sam was suddenly _alive_.

Dean pulled Sam into his arms, holding him tightly, burying his face in Sam's hair, shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs, of relief instead of grief this time.

How many times could he lose Sam and _not_ lose his sanity?

He wasn't sure it was too many more times.

Dean began to rock back and forth, unsure if the comforting motion was for himself or Sam.

...

The trickster suddenly reappeared nearby, laughter echoing softly. "They really were a special bunch, weren't they? I mean, the pure _brutality_ of their practices. So entertaining."

Dean looked up at him, snarling. "You think this is _entertaining?_"

The trickster laughed again.

"Yes, I do. You see, Dean, I'm just so _bored_. The regular folks just aren't nearly as entertaining anymore. No _imagination_, no _emotion_. You see, it's not really fun without a little bit _angst_, don't you think? So, you see, Dean, you and Sam? You and Sam are as fun as it comes. You care about each other so much, you _love_ your brother so much, it's almost creepy. And you see, I'm looking for a little bit of excitement."

The trickster paused.

"Well, and I want Sam out of the way. He may _look _like a puppy, but he's a puppy with some pretty sharp fangs and...well, let's just say I don't want to get bit."

He grinned.

"I'll be back when Sam wakes. You didn't really think it would be so _easy_, did you, Dean? Oh no, if I'm going to have to deal with two unprecedented _failures_, then I'm going to draw this out and I'm going to make this as _fun_ and _slow_ and _agonizing_ as possible."

The trickster's grin turned ugly and nasty.

"Enjoy your precious remaining moments with your little brother, Dean. You don't have many of those moments left."

He disappeared.


	9. Chapter 8

Hey all! Oh my gosh, I think they actually fixed the site (it worked for me while posting this chapter)! HALLELUJAH! :)

Well, here's the next chapter. It should start getting better from here...sorta...kinda...not really... :)

Enjoy and thanks for all the wonderful reviews! I'll reply to them as soon as I can! :)

* * *

The land around them began to darken as it progressed into the evening.

Dean didn't release his hold on his brother, even as he felt him stirring in his arms, beginning to wake.

He was taken by surprise when Sam suddenly screamed. "DEAN!"

His chest was heaving, panic clear in his tone, struggling in Dean's arms, disoriented at the unpleasant return to life and consciousness.

"Sam. Sammy, you're okay. It's okay. I'm right here." Dean was quick to soothe, stroking his little brother's back, continuing with the mantra until Sam began to calm.

"Dean. Oh Dean. I don't want to die again. Oh gosh. Please not again." Sam's voice was soft but clear to his older brother's ears and his pleading threatened to rip Dean's heart into pieces _again_.

"It'll be okay, Sam. We'll figure it out. We'll figure it out."

Dean wasn't sure he was telling the truth, but he would try to make Sam feel better anyway.

_Castiel. Castiel, please, we need you! Castiel!_

The prayer was almost second nature to Dean now, their dependence on their heavenly partner not bothering him anymore as it once had at least a little.

A sharp snap of fingers and Dean felt himself yanked away from Sam, hitting a nearby tree with bruising force.

"SAM!"

Sam couldn't hold himself up. Weak and tired, he crumpled to the ground, crying Dean's name. _No more fire. Please no more fire. _

Then a form walked out of the shadows around them.

Dean's horrified whisper barely carried to Sam's ears.

"Mom?"

Sam stared in shock and horror as his mom walked towards him, kneeling beside him.

"Mom." he breathed. "Mom, I'm s-"

"You were a mistake, Sam."

Sam flinched, eyes wide as he stared at his mom. Those were words some part of him had always believed he deserved, no matter what Dean used to say, but he had never expected to actually physically hear them from his mother's mouth.

"No, mom, please I'm-"

A long machete appeared in her slender hand and she twisted it with ease around so it was pointed at the ground, right above Sam's stomach.

"I never wanted you, Sam, and now I'm dead because of you." she sneered, then stabbed the machete down with inhuman strength and force, right through Sam and deep into the ground beneath him.

Sam's scream was cut off before it began, already gasping for air, eyes wide, head thrown back, muscles strained with pain and shock.

She disappeared and Dean screamed.

Each breath was painful.

Each movement agony.

Released from the hold on him, Dean crawled to Sam's side. "Sammy." He brushed the hair out of Sam's eyes, his hands roved around the wound, clearly trying to decide whether or not to pull it out.

"Hold still, Sammy. It won't hurt as badly if you hold still."

Sam fought back tears, determined to make this as easy for his brother as possible.

He would keep at least a little bit of dignity, if he even had any left.

"That wasn't mom, Sam."

Glazed, pained eyes turned up to Dean.

"It wasn't. Mom loved you, Sam, even at three years old I could tell she was excited, she was happy. You weren't a mistake."

Sam's eyes began to slowly droop closed, blood trickling from his mouth.

"No, Sammy. Sammy, keep your eyes open. Sam, please. Don't leave me."

Sam tried to open his eyes, but despite his valiant effort, they finally closed with a finality that Dean recognized from too many personal experiences.

"No..._no_..."

Dean bent over his brother's body, unable to even muster the energy to sob. Desperate, soft whimpers of grief echoed out over the water neaby.

There were none alive to hear.

...

"Okay, Dean. Are you ready for the grand finale?"

Dean didn't even bother to look up at the sound of the trickster's voice.

He knew what was coming next and he was torn between joy and pure horror. His brother was returning, but only to be lost to him again.

He couldn't forget Sam's terrified pleading, begging not to die again.

If this awful mess was traumatizing to _him_, Dean couldn't even imagine how Sam must feel.

A snap and Sam's chest was moving beneath his hands, the knife, the blood, all gone.

Hands grasped his arms, shaking with weakness.

Dean raised his eyes to meet those of his baby brother.

"Dean."

It was a plea and a comfort rolled into one short but meaningful word that had Dean's stomach twisting itself into knots.

"Touching, but I think it's time to get this show on the road." the trickster laughed.

Dean was yanked back from Sam, held by invisible bonds a short distance away from Sam.

A front row seat to a fresh wave of brutality and torture that was both physical and mental.

...

"I just _love _a good family reunion, don't you, Sam?"

_Oh no. _

Sam stared in horror at the figure the trickster had created as it stepped out of the shadows.

_Oh please no._

It was their dad.

He held a gun in his hand, his face was blank, but his eyes hard, an expression Sam had seen plenty while John was _hunting_.

"Dad."

Dean watched in horror nearby, fighting against the invisible restraints the trickster had put him in. _Sam!_

Sam scooted back as best he could, a cold pit of fear in his stomach spreading throughout his body.

"I never loved you, Sam."

Sam froze.

"Dean was always my favorite and you know it."

Sam shook his head, eyes wide, pain ripping through him.

"You're a monster, Samuel. You're responsible for so many deaths. Your mom, me."

John grabbed Sam by his shirt, pulling him close.

"You're never going to be a good guy, Sam."

He shoved Sam back hard and the youngest Winchester slammed into the ground with a flinch of pain.

Then another voice joined John's and Sam felt a sharp spike of horror.

"He's right, Sam."

Dean was suddenly there, leaning against the nearest tree, watching the two of them closely.

"You _failed me_, Sam. My whole _life_ has been about _you_. I've been stuck with your butt for so long. I had my _family_ ripped away from me, because _you_ were born, because _you _came along. I never wanted you, Sam. I still don't. I never will. I was happy when you left."

Sam wasn't even aware of the tears that ran down his cheeks, the way his body shook with shock and pain, and a desperate need to believe it _wasn't true_.

_Please._


	10. Chapter 9

Hey! I'm on a roll and we're finally getting to a happy part so I decided to keep going and just post another chapter tonight!

Enjoy and please review! :)

* * *

And suddenly, a light seemed to come on in Sam's mind, his father's soft voice from _that _night sounding in his ear for only him to hear.

"_I made mistakes with you. I know I did. I'm thankful you had your brother, but I'm also sorry it wasn't me that you could turn to. I hope you know..."_

And Sam did. He had at the time. It was clear in his father's face, the softness of his voice. It practically _eminated _from him.

Another memory.

"_I miss her, Sammy. Crap, I miss her every day. But...but I'd miss you more. I'm glad she did what she did, Sam. I wish...I wish it hadn't had to happen, but it did. The demon came, he threatened you, and mom stood her ground. It happened, Sam. It's not your fault. It's that #$% demon's fault and we killed him. We avenged her. Now we have to live for her."_

The words Sam had really needed to hear had gone unspoken, but they hadn't _needed_ to be spoken. They were evident in the fact that Dean had taken the time to talk about her, that Dean had _bore his soul_ for Sam to hear and endured a dreaded chick flick moment.

_"You're...you're my baby brother. You're a Winchester. You're...you're my best friend, my partner. You're a hunter, you're a warrior for heaven...you're...you're a hero. And I'm proud to call you my brother, Sam. You hear me? I'm proud of you."_

Another memory, this one dim because he had been dying (again) at the time.

_"Sammy. Hey, Sam, kiddo. Open your eyes. Stay with me, okay. I'll take care of you. You'll be okay. Don't give up on me now, kiddo."_

Dean was _always _saying stuff like that when Sam was in trouble. He had been promising for _years_ that he would take care of Sam.

"_You're my little brother, Sammy. You come before everything and anything. If you trust them, then so do I, because I trust you and I trust your instincts." Dean watched him steadily. "I have your back, baby brother, no matter what happens."_

Dean chose his side, no matter who was on the opposing side.

Hundreds of memories flooded Sam's mind. Time after time after time. In their own ways, John and Dean had been telling him for _years _those words he needed to hear, the truth that was part of their very souls.

_I love you, Sam._

Sam met the gaze of Not-Dean and Not-John, his mind firm.

"No. Neither of you are real. You're both full of it. My dad loved me. Dean does love me, he was just...just upset for a while. Dean's been telling me for years that I'm important to him and he's out and out told me that I'm not evil and that mom's death wasn't my fault. We both know the trickster killed dad and _that_ wasn't my fault. I love my family and they love me and _you_ will never be able to change that. Never."

The trickster made a sound of pure frustration and fury and Not-Dean and Not-John were suddenly gone and the trickster was right in front of Sam, eyes flashing with rage.

"Fine. _Fine._ No more games."

A horrible agony suddenly erupted in Sam's head. He clutched it, curling in on himself, a scream ripping from him.

Dimly, he could hear Dean yelling for him.

Some distant part of Sam knew he was dying.

_Dean really is destined to be the last Winchester. Heaven knows I've died and almost died enough for that point to be made._

_I love you, big brother._

"_ENOUGH!_" The familiar voice rang out.

If he wasn't in so much pain, Sam would've laughed. _Better late than never, huh?_

The pain throbbed strong and bright, pulling another fresh scream from him, then finally began to ebb, as the trickster turned to focus on the suddenly present angel.

"You have done enough damage here, trickster. Leave or the consequences will be highly...unpleasant for you."

The trickster scoffed, angrily. "Why should heaven be so interested in this waste of space? Surely you could have done better."

Another spike of pain left Sam gasping and cursing softly with what little breath he had.

Castiel's eyes flashed. "I will only warn you once more, trickster. Leave."

"Sammy. Sammy, I'm here, man. It's okay. You'll be okay. Crap, just...just take a deep breath, kiddo."

Dean's hands on his shoulders, his back, was surpising, but amazingly comforting. Sam curled just a little, enough that he could surprise Dean by burrowing into his chest, though his big brother didn't hesitate in responding by wrapping his arms around his baby brother. "It's okay, Sammy. It's okay." A pause, then, even softer, "I'm proud of you, Sammy. It certainly took you long enough, but I think the message has finally stuck. We're stronger as a family, kiddo, because we're bound together by something that #$%^ trickster will never understand. Dad loved you, kiddo. So do I. And...and I was wrong to blame you for what happened. I was just...I was so torn up by dad's..." Dean's voice broke. "I'm so sorry. Will you ever be able to forgive me?"

Sam smiled. "I already have."

Dean's arms tightened around him.

"Dean. Sam."

They both looked up at the angel that was now kneeling beside them. The trickster had left.

"Are you well?" Castiel asked.

Dean nodded. "We're good."

...

Castiel sighed heavily, looking at his two young charges.

"You are meant to be at each other's sides."

The rebuke was clear.

Sam stared at the ground, Dean looking guilty and pained.

"However, I believe you two can work that out on your own. I have other business with you. I desire to show you both something that I think you need to see."

Castiel looked at the two world-weary boys with compassion and suddenly the scenery around them disappeared, changing to an endless plain. They stood at the top of a hill, miles of land visible around them.

A huge crowd of people suddenly surrounded them, filling the land for as far as the eye could see.

"Who are these people?" Sam asked.

Castiel smiled softly. "These are the people the two of you have saved."

Dean and Sam both gaped.

There had to be hundreds, if not _thousands_, of people there, more than they ever could have even imagined saving.

"Seriously?" Dean managed.

Castiel nodded, looking vaguely amused, though confused. "I would not joke about a matter of such importance."

Gradually, the people and the land faded around them till they were back beside the lake.

Castiel's voice was soft, but powerful.

"There is evil in the world, yes. You risk much with every hunt you go on, yes. But you must remember that ultimately it is all worth it. It is God's will that evil be fought. Someday it _will _be defeated. God's time is His own and no one but Him knows when, so until then, you must keep fighting. _We_ must keep fighting. Peace will someday be yours and it will be sweeter because you will have earned it."

Castiel nodded solemnly at them both, then disappeared in a blink.

...

They remained standing in silence for a moment, both deep in thought.

Finally, Dean wrapped his arms more firmly around Sam and they headed to the car.

When they got there, by unspoken agreement, they leaned against it, resting for a moment.

Dean turned to Sam. "I'm so sorry, Sam. I know I said it before, but...but I really messed up and...and I don't want to lose you. Not just to death, but... I want you by my side and I just hope I haven't destroyed any chance we have at staying partners. Brothers. Bobby told me what happened, or at least some of it, and I wouldn't blame you if you were sick of me or angry at me, because I can't believe you went through a _vision alone_, but I'm _sorry..._"

Sam turned to face Dean as well, grasping his brother's shoulders firmly, meeting his gaze.

"Dean. I forgive you. It's okay. I want to be partners again, I want to hunt together, and I want to be brothers again."

Deciding to lighten the moment, Sam smirked a little.

"After all, I think you need _someone _to kick your butt at pool every once in a while."

Dean snorted. "You've never beaten me at pool."

Sam pouted, trying to force the smile off his face. "I might. Someday."

Dean laughed. "Get in the car, sasquatch. Maybe you can _dream_ about beating me at something."

Sam shook his head, muffling his chuckle, smiling slightly at Dean as his older brother helped him into the car.

He was exhausted and any dignity he had had was probably gone considering the major chick flick moment they had just had, besides the long and exhausting and _emotional_ day, week, _month_, they'd been having.

He watched as Dean walked over to the car Sam had stolen and pulled his stuff from the trunk, wiping it down quickly for prints just in case, then stuffed Sam's 'crap' into the Impala's trunk, complaining about doing all the work the entire time.

Sam just grinned and shook his head, relaxing back against the seat as Dean started the car.

They drove off, together again in more ways than one.


	11. Epilogue

...Like I said. I was on a roll and I realized I only had the epilogue left, so I decided to just write it and finish up the story tonight. I probably won't be able to write for the next two weeks anyway (finals!), so why not? :)

Please review and I hope you all have enjoyed the story! :)

* * *

Sam laid down on the bed with a groan, so happy to be lying down on something softer than the rocks by the lake that he wasn't even sure there were _words_ to describe his feelings.

Dean was silent and Sam forced his tired eyes open when he realized there were no jokes headed his way.

Dean looked serious, thoughtful, and Sam wasn't sure he liked what he saw.

"We'd better get ready."

Sam tiled his head a little, confused. "For what?"

Dean glanced at him, ran a hand over his face, then through his hair. Finally, he turned fully to look at Sam.

His eyes were dark with fury, haunted with memories and pain.

"To hunt. That #$%'s butt is mine."

Sam stared at him a moment, then forced himself to his feet with surprising speed and grabbed Dean by the shoulders.

"No! Dean, please. No more revenge driven years of hunting, okay? If we hunt, we hunt to save people, not to get revenge. Please?"

Dean hesitated and Sam went in for the finish, knowing this was going to be a defining moment for them, the moment that decided whether they were going to forge their own path...or go down the dark one their father had forged before them, one of revenge and hatred and darkness that still haunted the boys he had raised on it.

"Please, Dean, don't make me face that thing again. I don't want to go through all of this again. If we come across it, we can hunt it, but _please, please_ don't make me hunt this."

Dean stared at Sam for a moment, hesitating.

Both could sense the importance of the decision.

Dean stiffened slightly as he heard his father's voice in his mind, soft but clear. _Don't make the same mistakes I did, Dean._

And in an instant Dean made his decision: a decision that would and had made him a greater man than his dad had ever been.

"Okay. I priomise, Sammy. No more revenge. I promise."

Sam pulled him into a hug.

In that moment, he _knew_ that everything was going to be okay.

No matter what the future brought, the Winchesters would face it together, a bond, forged anew with blood and tears, that would carry them through the rest of their lives and into eternity.

Despite all of Sam's powers, all of Dean's hunting talent, their greatest power lay in their love for the other and Sam knew that as long as they held onto that, they would be okay.

He didn't plan on ever letting go again.

_You're stuck with me forever, Dean._

_Enjoy the ride._

_We've got work to do._


End file.
